Getting Home

The trip home went by quite quickly. Before I knew it, we were at a truck stop west of Winnipeg, ready for the last leg of our trip. It would only be an eight hour drive to get home.

But, as is often the case, the last trek always feels the longest. We went from dense forest to a combination of forest and scrub land to open prairies. Recently harvested fields were neatly separated by rows if intentionally planted trees meant to be wind breaks. Large farm equipment shared the road in some places. And massive construction caused delays in others

Rebecca was starting to get antsy. Maybe she started recognizing the smells. My nose did, which started me on a sneezing fit that reoccurred at regular intervals. We didn’t stop for lunch that last day. By then I had tired of fast food and made sandos for the day instead.

I felt like a time traveler. I changed the time on the truck three times over the course of the trip, gaining an hour each time. Finally, in the correct time zone and within my own province, I could tell in real time how much longer the trip would be.

Google took me across a few grid roads to avoid small town traffic and construction. With less than an hour to go, I could finally make out a cityscape of tall buildings, some of which I actually recognized. I only needed to cross Saskatoon to get to my town on the north west side.

Saskatoon seemed the same: busy streets full of strip malls with access to many things that prairie dwellers need. When I finally turned off the highway into my town, Rebecca sat up very excited. She was elated as we parked in front of the house and couldn’t wait to get out.

I was greeted first by my neighbors, who are more like siblings and then by my husband. We finally made it home.

Published by Clarisa

Traveler, Writer, Cook, Mariner, Veteran

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